


Big Bad Wolf

by Spikedluv



Category: American Idol RPF, David Cook (Musician)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, First Kiss, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-12
Updated: 2011-08-12
Packaged: 2017-10-22 13:42:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/238644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spikedluv/pseuds/Spikedluv
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>David smells like Cook’s mothers apple pie, only a hundred times better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Big Bad Wolf

**Author's Note:**

> Written for my [Cook/Archie Song Table](http://spikedluv.livejournal.com/696241.html) at ai_snapshots using the prompt: Hungry Like The Wolf. (With a song title like this, who ~wasn't expecting a werewolf!au? *g*)
> 
> Written: August 8, 2011

David Cook met David Archuleta at the recording studio where he was working on his second album. Cook smelled David before he saw him. People were coming in and out of the studio, making last minute adjustments, asking last minute questions, and each time the door swung open Cook got a whiff of the scent. Like his mother’s apple pie, only a hundred times better.

Cook was playing chords on his acoustic, just warming up his fingers and keeping busy, when Neal entered. He had someone with him, and Cook realized that this was the source of the scent that had been tantalizing him for the past several minutes. Cook bit back a growl when Neal touched the other man’s shoulder.

“David Cook,” Neal said, “meet David Archuleta. Your backup singer.”

David had brown hair, beautiful hazel eyes, and a smile that made Cook wonder if he tasted as good as he smelled. Cook shook that thought away, and noticed that David had put his hand out. The smile was slipping off his face the longer Cook took to respond. He grasped David’s hand and held on longer than was polite. Cook watched the flush crawl up David’s neck and forced down the urge to lick the skin that slowly turned pink.

Finally Cook said, “Hi.”

David’s voice, when he returned the greeting, sounded just as sweet as he smelled.

“Listen,” Cook said, “can I hear you sing before we get started?”

Cook pulled David forward as he spoke, until Neal’s hand slipped off his shoulder.

“Oh, yeah, sure!” David said, accommodating and eager.

Cook shivered, as if a cool breeze had touched overheated skin.

David went through a few warm ups, and then he sang. The pure, clear beauty of his voice filled the studio. Filled Cook.

Cook could’ve stood there and listened to David sing forever, but too soon the song ended and applause filled the room. Cook felt irritated that anyone else had heard David sing, but he was distracted from his ire by the pleased blush creeping up David’s neck, which made the scent of him that much stronger.

They laid David’s tracks first. The first time through was perfect, in Cook’s estimation, but he asked David to run through it twice more, just so he could hear him sing. Then it was Cook’s and the band’s turn. He asked David to stay, just in case they needed him, and he readily agreed.

“You’ve got me for the whole day, so . . . .”

David’s words made Cook think about having him in other ways. He only realized he was staring at David when Neal stepped in front of him and broke his line of sight.

“What’s going on with you?”

“Nothing,” Cook growled as he tried to peer around him and see David again. When he did, David was talking to Andy, which made a low growl rumble in Cook’s throat.

Neal tipped his head and studied Cook.

“What?” Cook snapped.

“What’s he smell like?”

“Apple pie,” Cook replied without thinking.

Neal grinned.

“What?”

Neal shrugged. “Nothing.”

But the fucker didn’t stop grinning. Cook thought about punching him in the arm, but Neal punched back, hard, and Cook still had to play the guitar. Besides, Neal had moved just enough that he could see David again. He was talking to Kyle now, and . . . .

Neal stopped Cook before he snapped Kyle’s hand off at the wrist, and said, “Looks like they’re ready for us.”

Cook was distracted long enough for Neal to throw his arm over Kyle’s shoulders and drag him a step or two away from David. Neal whispered something in Kyle’s ear, and Kyle’s eyes went wide.

“What?” Cook demanded again as they both stared at him.

They both grinned. “Nothing.”

Damn it, Cook knew it wasn’t nothing, and he briefly considered killing them both, but then he caught David’s gaze, watching them – watching _him_ – as if he didn’t know if they were joking around or not, and Cook couldn’t pull his eyes away.

They finally got him behind the microphone. The entire time he was laying (and relaying) tracks, Cook felt David’s eyes on him. It made him puff up a little bit and put extra effort into his singing, into his playing, so he could impress David. It also made him jittery under his skin, as if he’d drank to much caffeine.

Each time they took a break and played back the track, Cook found himself standing next to David, drawn to him as if they were magnets. One time he didn’t move fast enough, and David came to him. Cook’s fingers itched with the need to reach out and touch. David looked up at him with a smile on his face, and Cook slid his hand over David’s shoulder. Cook’s entire body _sighed_ , as if telling him it was about time.

David ducked his head so all Cook could see were the thick lashes brushing his cheek, and seemed to melt under Cook’s touch, as if he’d needed it as well. The scent of apple pie grew more intense, and suddenly Cook understood the looks Neal had been throwing him. He was almost afraid to glance over, but Neal was just smiling at him. He rolled his eyes and shook his head, his expression shouting, Finally!

Out loud Neal said, “I’m going to make a coffee run, maybe sandwiches. Who wants in?”

With everyone’s attention divided between the prospect of food and the track playing back, Cook pulled David aside. “We need to talk.”

“Okay,” David said agreeably, and let Cook lead him out of the studio.

Cook checked each door as they walked down the hallway, and let them into the first unlocked room. He pushed the door closed behind them and locked it. David looked at him with an innocence that made Cook want to dirty him up a little bit.

That brought him up short. He was 27 years old, past the prime mating period. He’d thought he’d missed his chance to experience the bond Adam had found, and told him to hold out for.

It was only when David made a soft sound that Cook realized he’d backed him up to the wall. Instead of fear, though, he smelled of cinnamon and nutmeg. Cook buried his nose in David’s neck and inhaled deeply, breathing in the intoxicating scent of him. He gave in to temptation and licked the sensitive skin. David yelped, but he didn’t push Cook away.

“I knew it,” Cook said. “You taste as good as you smell.”

“You smell good, too,” David said breathlessly.

“What do I smell like?” Cook pulled back only so he could switch sides. David shivered when Cook’s nose touched his neck.

“Hot cocoa.” David’s voice was high, breathless. “It’s my favorite thing.”

“I think you’ve just become my favorite thing,” Cook said, and then he captured David’s lips with his own.

Cook forgot about talking, and ignored the fact that they’d just met hours ago, as he licked his way into David’s mouth. David kissed him back, tentative at first, like he’d never been kissed before, and then with more determination. His hands slid over Cook’s shoulders and he clung to him.

They were both breathing hard when they broke the kiss to suck in oxygen. Cook pressed his leg between David’s. David’s eyes shot up to Cook’s as he gasped. He rolled his hips against Cook’s leg, and Cook watched his eyes go dark.

“Oh, gosh,” David said. “What . . . ?” He had to lick his lips (red and swollen from their kiss) and start again. “What are we doing?” He asked the question even as he continued to rock his hips into Cook.

Cook’s eyes changed; he saw David through the eyes of a predator, though he saw him not as prey, but as mate. The other half of his soul.

David whined and clawed at Cook’s neck. “You’ve got to be _kidding_ me,” he said, still breathless as he tried to push himself under Cook’s skin. “I made it out of Utah without getting mated, and I’ve only been in LA for a _week_.”

David sounded befuddled by the prospect, but not terribly upset about it. “What, what do I smell like to you?”

“Apple pie,” Cook immediately replied. “Only better. God,” he moaned, “I want to eat you right up.”

Cook thought he should be insulted when David snorted a laugh. Before he could decide, David slid a hand into his hair and pulled his face close.

“What big teeth you have,” David said against Cook’s lips, and then Cook placed them against David’s neck.

The End


End file.
